Every day,
As I slide the key
Into the ignition
To drive
Away,
My mind
Stays
Home
With them
And her,
As she sleeps
Finally
During the day-
No longer at night-
Squirming,
Squealing,
Searching for a nipple.
(originally recorded as voice memo while driving to work- 4/11/10)
Timothy Vance Jackson
My mind
Is running around
Loose of its roots.
Bouncing off the walls of my head.
Strange how it seems to be all alone,
But I know that something else runs around in there.
-
Maybe that is why my mind runs so,
If it stops moving
Maybe this other thing
In my head
Will catch it and eat it…
-
Every soft juicy morsel of my mind
As if it were a well cooked crustacean,
Being devoured by a hungry old man.
-
Strange how it runs…
This poem was written on the back of a paycheck stub ($5.15/hr) because when the poem came to me, I had nothing else to write on. A friend of mine later turned it into a song and used to perform it at open mic performances.
Paystub poem- 3/21/90
The bottom of the check stub, below the poem, has two magazines I sent the poem to… both politely declined to print it.
For those who can’t read the terrible handwriting, here’s the poem-
She turned to walk away
And she couldn’t see
The tears in his eyes
Or the pain in his soul.
-
It was the longest walk
She would ever take,
As she crossed the room
To the door.
-
He was blind
To the swelling
Hurt in her breaking heart,
So they were both
Ignoring the other’s burden,
Failing to see
Any other side.
-
He felt his heart beating in his hands
And when he opened them
He found nothing but cool emptiness,
As tears streamed down his face.
-
She couldn’t see my pain
And I refused hers
Because I was blind
To everything but my own loneliness.
July 17, 1989
You almost can’t tell I was only 19 when I wrote that. Almost.
Several thousand feet
Below
And many miles
Behind,
A woman
Sleeps
Alone in her bed
While I
Yearn
To occupy
That space
In her
Bed
And in her
Life.
As the miles
Stretch out
Behind and below,
The desire
Grows
And the sweet melancholy
Increases.
I will
Dream
Of her
As I sleep
And will
Think
Of her
While awake.
Such delicate
And sweet
Longing
Is a gift
That I cherish
As much
As each
Memory
Of each
Touch.
Such joy
From such sadness
Leaves my heart
Sailing.
****
I know
I’ll be dreaming
Of her
Again.
Her slender
Tiny neck,
Her long
Black hair,
How her eyes
Shine
From behind her glasses
And the way
Her upper lip
Curls
To show her teeth
When she smiles.
Her dark eyes
Sparkle
With amazing depth
And intensity
When we speak-
Her eyes
Locked to mine.
When my
Mind
Drifts into sleep,
I know I will
Dream
Of her
Hands
Holding mine,
Or possibly
Just holding
Her
In my arms
And smelling
Her hair.
I know
She will
Occupy
My thoughts
Each time
My mind
Wanders
Away
From me.
Her spell
Has been cast
And I am
Her willing victim,
Her happy slave,
The one
Who will
Hold her
In their every spare thought.
****
Just as I
Thought,
I dreamed
Of her
Again.
Sweetly,
My thoughts
Were
Of her
And myself
Embracing
And sharing
Life.
Sweetly.
Innocently.
Beautifully.
She has
Taken over
My thoughts,
Both waking
And asleep.
Such sweetness
And gentleness
Can do nothing
But become
Unstoppable.
I have been
Devoured
By her.
Happily.
Timothy Vance Jackson
(While flying from Taiwan to California.)
This one that I wrote a number of years ago. I was fascinated by a dysfunctional streetlight outside my apartment. Many nights I sat on my porch, smoking a cigar and having a Scotch or a glass of red wine/ port just watching the light fade in and out of productivity. I related to it- possibly a bit too much.
Just outside the window
Of our small apartment
Glows our dysfunctional streetlight.
It starts with a dull glow
Of the filament,
Just barely visible,
But not casting any light
That could be used.
Then it snaps
Brightly
With a bright blue-white
Light,
That quickly fades
To a duller golden-yellow
To match the light
On the opposite corner.
Once it has reached
The perfect copy,
Seemingly its perfection,
It shuts off
Leaving
Just the slightest
Glow
Of the filament
To remain visible
In the darkness.
To return again and again.
Its cousin across the street
Stays the same color
From the time the sun
Says farewell
And then returns.
In my moments
Of diminished appreciation
I consider reporting
To the city
That the light is a danger
And should be replaced,
But I’m ultimately
Convinced
That I would miss
My periodic light,
Once replaced
By a constant glow.
I don’t know
If I could forgive myself
For replacing
Constant effort
With constant success.
Our light
Is only bright
For a minute or two
Before cutting off
And starting over
Again,
But it never stops
Trying.
All night
Through the darkness,
It has constant success
For only a moment.
I relate to our light
More than the arrogant
Over achiever across the street.
I have to remind my self
That some success
Is better
Than none,
Even if only
For a moment.
Timothy Vance Jackson
July 7, 2001
This is one that I wrote a few years ago- it’s nothing exceptional, but it sets a tone in this early stage of things.
Going back over these older poems is also cathartic. Moving forward and growing and accepting the emotional character that I am… some might call it progress.
I need
Some sleep
And to curl
Up
Naked
Behind my wife
And feel her
And sleep
Peacefully.
That’s all I want
Right now
Because I can’t
Pay my bills
Tonight
Or find a new job
Tonight.
But,
I can
Go home
And hold
My wife
In my arms.
Timothy Vance Jackson
April 11, 2002
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